


A Pint of the Good Stuff

by snarechan



Category: Transformers, Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Bad Romance - Freeform, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-10
Updated: 2007-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place pre-movie, in a little bar on Cybertron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pint of the Good Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apocalyptic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=apocalyptic).



> Anx wanted: _Bonecrusher/Blackout, what a wonderful caricature of intimacy._ Who am I to say no? Beta read real quick Cassandra Cassidy. All remaining errors are my own.

Bonecrusher remembers a time when bars on Cybertron used to be something to brag about, with bright lights, loud parties, and excellent high grade. But he’s lucky if he can get one out of three these days. Although tonight, he’d prefer the latter – the more potent the grade, the faster he can get drunk, after all. That, and he hates the taste of the unrefined stuff.

Fortunately, he’s familiar with a little place in their territory well known for stocking the stronger end of the energon spectrum. As he steps inside, he notes that, as always, the atmosphere leaves a lot to be desired. Dark as the Pit and twice as humid, masses of other Decepticons are already overflowing the place. Without remorse, he shoves through the lot of them, making a straight course for the nearest drink.

When he gets close enough to the counter, he’s rather amused to see the unlikeliest of mechs already sitting there: Blackout, swirling his energon around in his cube idly. His night suddenly looking up, Bonecrusher moves closer, picking up one of the unfortunate individuals who was taking up residence in the seat he wanted. Claws digging into their back, he easily hauls them out, ignoring their indignant squeals as he tosses them over his shoulder and onto a table. No one moves to stop him, seeing as this is a pretty common practice around here, so he languidly takes his spot and orders up without a worry in the world.

“ _Well, well, well. If it isn’t Lord Megatron’s ‘hound’ come down to join the rest of us plebeians. To what do we owe the honor of such a visit?_ ”

The other pointedly ignores him, continuing to play with his drink more than consume it. Bonecrusher is undaunted, grabbing his as it’s presented and taking a large swig. It sparks and fizzles all the way down, strong enough to burn a lesser mech if they aren’t careful.

“ _What, running on silent mode? Or too depressed over the matter concerning the loss of our resident faction leader to comment?_ ” he quips easily. “ _Can’t say I’m too thrilled about it, either, seeing as Starscream is running the show now. But what can possibly be done?_ ”

With a surprisingly lightning-quick response, the flier has a hand wrapped around Bonecrusher’s neck before he can really process what just hit him, blunt digits indenting the armor he’s adorned himself with and digging dangerously into the wires underneath. Sometime between the comment he had made and being decapitated, he’s forced to his back on the counter, the much taller Decepticon looming over him, glowing red optics boring into his.

Intakes hissing scant inches from him, the other murmurs, in that darkly polished way only Blackout seems to know how, “Lord Megatron is not _lost_ ; it is just that no one is skilled enough to _track him_. Starscream is merely a temporary nuisance that must be tolerated. You would do well to remember that.”

Through the pain, Bonecrusher merely laughs, though it is hardly one of joyous sanity. He reaches up to grasp the other by the shoulder struts, the tips of his claws scraping along metal or digging into grooves to prick at the tubing there, bending the taller mech in such a way that he bows closer on top of him.

“ _You hold a lot of delusional hope for one of our standing._ ”

“This is _loyalty_ , something I am sure you know nothing about.”

“ _And the prominent difference being…?_ ” he drawls, undeterred.

“I do not expect a coward like _you_ to understand such a concept!”

“ _A coward, am I?_ ” the other chuckles, leering. “ _I find that funny coming from someone who can’t even get his hands dirty half the time, always hiding behind the **real** players and letting everything work out until the benefits can be easily reaped._ ”

Blackout literally growls with his furry, fist tightening and forcing his head practically through the counter by this point. The ground runner’s components whine in protest, creaking together as they’re compacted. But still, his expression hardly falters.

“ _Hit a-argh nerve, did I?_ ”

“You know nothing,” he snarls, mandibles lingering not too far from Bonecrusher’s as he adds, “Absolutely _nothing_.”

With one last forceful shove, he releases him, turning and storming off through the crowd. Rubbing at the wounds left behind, Bonecrusher straightens, observing that quite a few of the mechs present had obviously been, and still are, watching the scene that had developed.

Snatching a lesser mech’s drink right out from under them, he raises it, cheering, “ _What a guy; am I right?_ ” before chugging the entire glass down.

-Fin-


End file.
